


Lost in a Good Book

by memelessness



Series: Good Omens Short Stories [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memelessness/pseuds/memelessness
Summary: Aziraphale doesn't mean to tune out the world. In fact, he considers himself very involved in his community... but it can be rather easy to find yourself lost in a really good book.





	Lost in a Good Book

**Author's Note:**

> We played two truths and a lie as a classroom icebreaker and my lie was that I was a published author and she said that it made sense because I'm studying to go into pharmacy. Meanwhile I've been working on a novel for over 5 years so here is me just wanting to write to prove people wrong :)

Aziraphale studied every word with intent, fine curls sticking in every direction with rigid elbows planted against the messy table still littered with old scrolls and a few books that are just barely hanging onto their binding (he would never dare do that to his literature. He’d just gotten to them too late and didn’t have the heart to fix them. Admittedly, it did add to the charm). Though he prided himself in his vast collection in history and prophecy, he had quiet an unusual taste in fiction. Thousands upon thousands of stories that have all come from the human mind, and no matter how daunting the task was, they still had the will to complete them. He even kept a few here-and-there that were unfinished. Never published due to either untimely death or even just a lose of will. He didn’t really know whether it had been his or Crowley’s doing anymore, although humans tend to do it to each other which is evermore worse. The particular book he held was a new publish (one that hadn’t gotten much traction yet, having only been in stores for all of 19 hours now).

Crowley had been pacing around the table, ranting about some lady who was driving like a bat out of, well, hell (a common misconception since bats, especially the ones in hell, have no such capabilities). He watched the floor, pausing often to keep his focus on avoiding the paper sprawled about. Though unadmittedly as a kind act, he didn’t want to feel his friend’s holy wrath.  
“-and she nearly scuffed my Bently! 95 years without a scratch, that car, and she nearly ruined it all!” Crowley finally decided it wasn’t worth it, leaning against the only empty space in the entire table. Aziraphale kept it that way, knowing it’d been the demon’s favorite place to lean, “Angel, are you even listen to me?”

“Yes, Dear.” Aziraphale muttered mindlessly, still enthralled by intergalactic journeys and sky pirates a governmental feuds. Things seemingly impossible in this day and age, yet is already placed before him by the author’s weeping imagination.

“Really?” He leaned forward, watching as the angel’s eyes danced against the pages, “Then what did I just say?”

There was a long pause that lingered between them, almost deafeningly silent before Aziraphale finally decided to speak up once more, “Oh, that sounds quite lovely.”

Crowley was hesitant, gently placing his hand on top of the book. Aziraphale jolted slightly, suddenly becoming flustered as he quickly pressed a finger to where he left off. He looked up slightly agitated as he tried to regain his composure, smiling as if he’d stolen the final cookie from the jar and was trying to cover his tracks.

The demon quickly conceded, returning his hand to his side, “Ah, nevermind. ‘S not important.” The angel’s expression then brightened just a bit, excited to return to his story.

Crowley never really understood Aziraphale’s love for books (“How can you just sit still for hours staring at a bunch of words?!”) but he did know he enjoyed seeing the other happy. So he sat down, pouring some wine for the both of them and playing some baroque music. He never enjoyed reading himself, but he enjoyed watching his angel read, taking mental notes of every expression they made.

And Aziraphale smiled happily at how fitting the music had been with the story.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting to the end of this. I just wanted to write something and my own stories were just making me sad. I haven't written proper fan fiction in a long time... And I only wrote this in like an hour with barely any proof reading so sorry if its not good. I just thought I'd leave it here as kind of an archive


End file.
